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by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Ethan Gold Bashing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Points of View, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-12
Updated: 2005-06-15
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Alternate ending to episode #220. It didn't happen like Brian thought it would. Please review.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Author Note: This is actually my first fic, so please be tactful with your reviews. I am open to all constructive criticism, so feel free. Also, thank you to my wonderful beta, Brittinae.

* * *

**_Brian’s POV_ **

It was pretty fucked up, even for me. Justin looked like the very picture of agony and betrayal as I pounded into my very own counterpart beneath me. I’m sure the fact that I had my mask on was not lost on him in both the literal and figurative sense. He got what I was saying loud and clear.

 

I refused to break eye contact with him as the trick moaned and writhed beneath my body, becoming more and more vocal as his orgasm approached. I was doing this for him. In my own unconventional and quite dysfunctional way, I knew this was for his benefit. By giving him this little shove, he could go off and frolic in the fields with fucking Ian. He could have the romance and the words and the monogamy that I wouldn’t give him; that I _couldn’t_ give him no matter how hard I tried. 

 

At least that’s how I justified it.

 

And thinking about it now, I don’t know what possessed me to lock eyes with him right at the moment the trick moaned my name and shot all over the floor. I don’t know what made me _smile_ at Justin for Christ sake. But I did. Then I shuddered, filled the condom and flicked my gaze away from his. 

 

When I chanced a look to where he was, he was gone.

 

**_Justin’s POV_ **

I’ve always been pretty damned perceptive. I instinctively feed off of people’s body language and their general behaviors in order to size them up. I look to the details to tell me what I need to know. I’m an artist; it’s a thing. 

 

So it slighted me somewhat to think that Brian thought me too dense to get what he was trying to tell me with this little public display. I have been reading the tension in him for the past few days. He had that rebellious edge about him, an extra defiance that hadn’t been present even when he found out about Ethan. He was out to do something drastic to prove himself.

 

And here it was.

 

As I watched Brian fucking himself, so to speak, I couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. That I had predicted this right, that I really didn’t forget the Kinney-speak like I thought I did. But the relief was outweighed by the overwhelming agony of my breaking heart as I realized what this meant for us. If there even was an us.

 

Then that asshole had the gall to _smile_ at me when the trick came beneath him, loudly. And as pathetic as the situation was, that smile still made my heart clench. It still made me want him. 

 

Like I knew I always would.

 

In that moment, I swear I had a fucking epiphany, one that was a long time coming in fact. I didn’t love Ethan. 

 

Not like I loved Brian. Because while Brian didn’t do flowers or rings or promises, Brian Kinney _did_ do fucking romance. Romance was coming to my senior prom, romance was letting me name his own son. It was ice cream kisses. Romance was… it was this. Him fucking this trick in front of all of Babylon, in front of me, to push me away. To give me what he thought I goddamn well wanted. 

 

All I wanted was him; all I would _ever_ want is him. Never Ethan like I thought it would be. Ethan was nice. He was safe and romantic in that stereotypical, ‘packaged’ sort of way.

 

But he didn’t make my heart race and my cock harden just with a glance. He didn’t have me in a conversation one second and on my knees being fucked into the mattress the next.

 

It was time to let him know that.

 

::::::

 

“What… what do you mean you’re not coming back home with me?”

 

“I mean I’m not going back home with you. I made a mistake, Ethan, and I’m sorry. But I’m not going to pursue this knowing that I still love Brian. I will _always_ love Brian,” I sigh and run a hand through my hair. I didn’t mean for him to get hurt by all of my shit. He was a pretty nice guy.

 

“Was I just your petty rebound man then? A plaything to amuse yourself with while Brian got his rocks off with just about every fag in Pittsburgh? I _love_ you, Justin. You can’t do this to me! I refuse to accept this.”

 

He was hysterical at this point and I could tell we were garnering more than a few curious glances here just outside of Babylon. Brian Kinney’s very own blonde twink and the illicit lover going at it. 

 

“Look, I-I said I’m sorry. You weren’t meant to get caught up in all my fucking drama. I know where I stand now, Ethan. I’m not going home with you tonight, or any other night for that matter,” I say with as much conviction as I felt. He looks thrown for a second.

 

“But…all your stuff at the apartment. You can’t just… y-you can’t.”

 

I dismiss the plea. “I’ll come by and pick it up sometime during the day. I’m really _really_ sorry about all of this, Ethan,” I say solemnly by way of my goodbye.

 

I turn my back on him and begin walking in the opposite direction. I figure the diner would be a good place to get myself together. I know everyone is still in Babylon, probably trying to comfort Brian since they saw me leave with Ethan. 

 

Suddenly I hear footsteps behind me and then an arm around my neck. Spots start to swim in front of my eyes.

 

“If _I_ can’t fucking well have you then I’ll be damned if Kinney can.”


	2. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thanks once again to my beta, Brittinae. You're fabulous my dear.

* * *

  
_**Brian’s POV** _

Being so fucking self-sacrificing didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. Consoling myself with a few shots of Beam, I stood against the bar staring at the moving, writhing, whateverthefuck mass of people on the dance floor.

 

Had they ever felt like this? Had they ever given up the person they honest to God really lo- I mean, cared for…

 

“Fuck!” I slam my shot glass on top of the bar.

 

Shit, I mean love. I really do. If I had the fucking guts to say it to his face I wouldn’t even have this problem. But I didn’t and I won’t say it because Sunshine already has enough pull over me as it is. He’s got me waxing poetic and being hideously maudlin over him leaving. I sound like a fucking pussy for fuck’s sake.

 

“Buy you a drink?”

 

This twenty-something little blonde twink with a decent-looking package sidles up to me and looks at me from beneath long lashes. Must be new.

 

“No thanks.”

 

“Well then can we just get straight to you fucking me?”

 

Blunt. No bullshit. I like it.

 

“Backroom.”

 

The smile he gives me is a big one, but it’s not a Sunshine smile. I try my best to forget that as I drag him into the den of debauchery.

 

:::::::

 

“BRIAN! BRIAN! GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT HERE, KINNEY! _NOW_!”

 

Groaning, I roll to my side and my arm immediately seeks out Justin’s form. His side is empty and the sheets are cold. I panic a little.

 

“Sunshine?... Oh _fuck_!”

 

My head aches and I feel like I got run over by a Mac truck. The clock reads barely nine a.m. I don’t remember much from last night. I remember scoring some shit from Anita and some Beam, lots of Beam apparently, but I couldn’t… and someone is _still_ trying to knock down my goddamn door.

 

“BRIAN! OPEN. THE. FUCKING. _DOOR_!”

 

It sounds vaguely like Daphne, so I stumble out of bed to open the door and don’t even bother to pull any clothes on.

 

“What?” I bite out.

 

She looks like she hasn’t slept and her eyes are a roadmap of red veins. She’s shaking like a fucking leaf, too. My alarms immediately begin to go off.

 

“Daph? What’s up?” I open the door wider and she darts in, unfazed by my nudity. The girl’s always been one after my own heart.

 

She sits quiet for a moment and it seems eerily ominous since she was screaming the roof down not a few moments ago and now she’s silent.

 

“Daphne? Daphne. What the fuck’s going on?”

 

Turning her eyes gaze to meet my own eyes, she whispers, “Have you seen Justin?”

 

I try not to scream once she says it so, _so_ quietly. ‘Don’t,’ I silently plead in my head. ‘Don’t say anything.’

 

I shake my head in the negative and she lets out a small sob.

 

“There… there was a-a thing. On the news this morning. I heard it and I panicked, but then I remembered last night was the Rage party and I thought he w-was with you. So I came over here and I was listening to it on the radio and I just _couldn’t_ …”

 

“Daph,” I admonish her sharply, my heart beating out a staccato tune in my chest. I’m starting to remember, vaguely.

 

“S-sorry,” she apologizes, wringing her hands. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “There was a domestic disturbance at an apartment complex downtown. A lot of people in the building had been he-hearing a male sc-screaming the whole night, and a lot of breaking glass. The police were called i-in and two male bodies were found. One of a young brunette in his twenties, the other of… of a blonde. Late teens, early twenties, they suspect."

 

Silence followed her statement as I tried desperately not to break inside. It couldn’t have been Justin. It _hadn’t_ been Justin.

 

“The brunette had been dead on the scene b-but the blonde was rushed to the ER. He died in the ambulance on the way. Th-they said he was calling out a man’s name even when… even when he passed,” she choked. I still hadn’t replied so she tentatively tried to touch my arm after a while. I flinched away.

 

“You don’t fucking know it’s him,” I intoned in a low, cutting voice.

 

“That’s why I-I came to check here. To make sure. They didn’t identify either of them, but… but I’m heading to the hospital right n-now to go and see if…”

 

“Get in the Jeep. I’ll be there in three minutes.”

 

She grabs the keys I toss at her and goes out the door without another word.

 

I can remember now.

 

_I don’t know what possessed me to lock eyes with him right at the moment the trick moaned my name and shot all over the floor. I don’t know what made me smile at Justin for Christ’s sake. But I did._

 

Fuck.


	3. Follow

Author Note: All of the medical procedures in this chapter are what I presume would occur. I don't really know what would happen in a situation like this, but to the best of my knowledge it might be something similar. I do not claim to be a medical genius. Furthermore, there is one final chapter following this one; I don't intend to leave you all cursing my name into the depths of hell :] And finally, to my lovely beta, Brittinae. You know the drill.

* * *

**_Brian’s POV_ **

“What the _fuck_ do you mean you can’t give me any information? You’re a fucking receptionist, it’s your job!”

 

I nearly reach over the counter and strangle the woman, but Daphne keeps her hand on my arm, unwanted, but not unwarranted.

 

“Brian…” she warns.

 

I inhale deeply and exhale through my nose. The woman cocks an eyebrow at me and it’s all I can do not to fucking punch her.

 

“I’m… I’m sorry, _ma’am_. But you have to understand that I’m concerned about this young gentleman that was brought in this morning and I…”

 

There’s a flurry of activity as the doors to the OR open and a doctor comes striding out, reporters trailing behind with flashing bulbs and obtrusive microphones.

 

“Doctor! Doctor! Could you by chance give us the young man’s name who was admitted this morning?”

 

“Excuse me! Was the young man calling out for his lover? Do you know if perhaps he is the one who was the cause of the boy’s injuries?”

 

“Sir! Sir!”

 

“I have no intention of releasing any of this information to anyone but the young man’s family and the appropriate authorities. Now if you’ll please excuse me,” he hurries over to the elevator.

 

Panicking, I make a beeline for the elevator and wedge myself in before the doors slide shut. I can barely make out a startled Daphne struggling to get through the mass of reporters before they close.

 

Chest heaving, I turn to the doctor who is looking somewhat alarmed.

 

“Look, Doc, I’m not a reporter or anything but I-I’m looking for my…” I pause. My what? My ex-lover? My former piece of ‘blonde boy ass’? Justin’s more than that.

 

“My partner. He somewhat fit the description of the young man on the news this morning and I needed to make sure…”

 

The doctor’s eyes soften and he looks uncomfortable for a moment.

 

“I’m sorry, Mr.…”

 

“Kinney. Brian Kinney.”

 

At that, the doctor becomes even more visibly uncomfortable and I fight not to tremble.

 

“Brian? Oh.” The doctor shifts away from me momentarily and clears his throat.

 

“Normally I would not divulge this information to anyone but the young boy’s parents, but in this case I… _Brian_ , the individual admitted this morning was one Justin Taylor. He died on the way to the hospital this morning. Severe blood loss and head trauma. He…”

 

“Died calling my name.”

 

I shudder and break and fall all at once. My chest feels like it’s likely to explode, as tears rush to the surface of my eyes and the last vision I see swimming before me is blinding rays of sunshine and a broken gaze across the dance floor. 

 

**_Justin’s POV_ **

 

_“If I can’t fucking well have you then I’ll be damned if Kinney can.” Ethan pulls his forearm against my throat and I struggle against him, panicking._

_“Ethan! Ethan, wait, p-please…” I choke out._

_“Shut up, Justin. Just…Just fucking_ shut up _!” He pulls his forearm harder and my consciousness begins to dim._

_::::::::_

_‘Shit’ I think as I attempt to pull myself back into my body. Blinking my eyes open, I’m face to face with brown carpeting. Wooden table legs._

_“Nice of you to wake up,_ Sunshine _.”_

_“B-Brian?” I sputter out in a raspy voice. Curling my fingers into the carpet, I struggle to pull myself up. Wait. Brian doesn’t have carpet._

_Ethan laughs, long and maniacal. Oh._

_“You fucking_ wish, _Sunshine. No. Your precious Kinney can’t save your worthless ass now.” He punctuates this by stomping on the small of my back. Hard. I scream out loudly, while inside I seethe. How dare he fucking defile the nickname that Brian used for me? Bile rises in my throat and I fight not to gag._

_“Shut up, Justin! You chose this. You goddamn well_ chose _this,” he growls, stepping on my back again. I only vaguely realize I have no clothes on anymore._

_“Ethan, stop. I-I…”_

_He pounces on my back as I lay face down on the floor. Going for my neck again, the fucker. He applies more and more pressure until the dots reappear and my eyes begin to bulge._

_“Such pretty, perfect skin, Justin. Won’t Brian appreciate all the designs that’ll be etched onto his favorite canvas?”_

_In the distance it seems, I hear breaking glass and feel a point pressed into my left shoulder blade._

_“I love red on you, Justin.”_

_I sob and shriek as the shard pierces my skin._

_::::::::_

_“Young blonde male. Mid to late teens. Severe lacerations on back and torso. Bruised neck…”_

_Flashing. Red. Loud._

_“Brian?” Laughter and a guarded grin. Hazel eyes with flecks of gold staring back at me, saying everything in silence._

_“Melinda! Pulse is slowing, BP dropping in tens. How far are we from Allegheny, Drake?”_

_“Brian? Brian, where are you?”_

_‘Fuck, Justin.’ Slow thrusts under blue lights. A stretching, a filling, an aria of pleasefuckyesohGod playing out into the early hours of a sunrise._

_“Dammit. We’re going to need to shock him. He’s going into cardiac arrest.”_

_“I’m so s-sorry, Brian. Please, where are you?”_

_‘You stink.’ An accusation, an admission and a chasm of separation measured by the flippant dismissal in his tone._

_“WE’RE LOSING HIM! Voltage at sixty, again! MELINDA!?!”_

_“B-Brian!”_

_Thrusting and turning that knife ever so slowly in my gut. A smile under the lights of Babylon, a final victory in the battle of our un-relationship._

_“Sir, sir… Please calm down. We’re trying our best to help you.”_

_“Bri…” Quieter. Quieter. It hurts._

_A white scarf. Laughter and a private grin. A dance that I never thought I would remember. Every single pair of eyes on us. ‘Don’t you mean ridiculously romantic?’_

_“He’s flat lining, Allen!”_

_‘Hey, Sunshine. Did you miss me?’_

_Slowly fading, fading… and then it all stopped._


	4. Follow

Author Note: To my beta, Brittinae. Thanks for not queening out because of my constant e-mails. You are most appreciated. And also to all the readers, thanks for taking the time to comment; your opinions mean a lot to me.

* * *

_**Brian’s POV** _

I don’t want this anymore.

 

I never wanted this. I want to scream at the sky and whip angry red lashes at the sun that persists, shining oh-so-brightly on what is essentially the last day of my life. 

 

We buried him today.

 

By we, I mean Jennifer, Deb, Linds, Daphne, the whole gang. I didn’t go; I couldn’t go. Jennifer even came down from her pedestal and begged me to give the eulogy, knowing how much we… meant to each other. It was a fucking joke is what it was. No way in fuck would I do a little song and dance in front of a group of pious little WASPS and sympathetic queens who knew _nothing_ about grief.

 

My grief ran deeper than empty words and solemn church songs. It was more than the standard, ‘Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…’ bit. It bled and twisted and **blamed**. Oh God, how it blamed.

 

I knew it was my fault. He died calling _my_ fucking name, harmed at the hands of a man that _I_ pushed him to. Everyone has been telling me I couldn’t have known, that Ian was just one sick twisted fuck who died just like he should have, wrists slit and writhing in agony. Apparently he knew how to do something right on his own: up the arms, not across the wrists; hits the arteries more precisely that way.

 

But I disagree. He should have died slowly, painfully, each part of his being ripped methodically by my own goddamned hands. Fucker didn’t have to live with this ache inside and cold sheets in an empty bed in an even emptier loft.

 

So if he didn’t have to live with it, then neither do I.

 

::::::::

 

**_Daphne’s POV_ **

 

“Brian?” I peer hesitantly into the loft. The door was left wide open, which in itself is a scary thing to think about. Brian is anal retentive about his privacy. But then again, Brian hasn’t really been himself lately; not that it’s not expected.

 

“Brian? It’s Daphne.”

 

It’s eerily quiet. The kitchen and living area are empty, so I venture further. The bedroom is obviously the next choice, but it’s too harsh of a reminder of who else is missing from this picture. Nevertheless, I squeeze my eyes shut and forge ahead.

 

“HOLY SHIT! Brian! Oh fuck, Brian, _no_ …”

 

He lay on the bed, eyes wide open and staring unseeing at the ceiling; an expression of defeat seems to grace his features. Dried rivulets of blood stain his chest and the blue satin duvet, the one I recall Justin describing when he told me in great detail of the night he “saw the face of God,” is ruined as crimson puddles seep into the fabric.

 

Deep gashes run, quite poetically, in a series of short, disturbingly precise lines across his heart.

 

“Oh _fuck_. Oh G-God,” I sob as my knees give and I thump onto the floor. 

 

A crème colored paper flutters next to me from the bed at my disruption and I wince. I pick it up and read with blurred vision as tears stream down my face.

 

_Justin,_

_This isn’t working. I can’t be here, can’t fucking exist without you here. It’s agony and I will damned well admit it because it’s not like you’re here to contradict me. That’s it, really. You’re just not here._

_I have said that I don’t do apologies or regrets, but for you I will make an exception. Because, in fact, you always seem to_ be _the exception. I’m sorry for fucking pushing you away and never promising you anything, so essentially it seemed that I didn’t think you were worth a fucking promise. But you were. You were worth every promise I ever could have made, every promise that I should have made. Even the one I said I would_ never _make._

_You know Sunshine that if I ever did forever, it could only have been with you. And that if I ever said ‘I love you’ it would have only been_ to _you. Because I do. I fucking do; and that is my regret._

_Maybe if I had said it, even just once, you would still be here with me, blinding me with that beautiful fucking Sunshine smile and lying in bed with me wasting the day away. But you aren’t and I’m stuck here without you._

_So I’m going to fix that._

_It might not be the smartest thing to do but God knows I can’t do this no matter how hard I try. Even then, I don’t really know if we’ll end up together. I’ve done some pretty shitty things in my life that hardly reflect my angelic disposition. And I don’t think you’re exactly cut out for fire and brimstone, so there that is. Plus, isn’t fucking offing yourself like automatic damnation? It’s for the right reasons, I think; Romeo & Juliet-esqe romantic tragedy. So I hope that gets me somewhere in the Big Guy’s Book._

_But wherever I end up, I hope you’re happy where you are. I hope that you know you’re loved, most of all by me, even if I never said it. We were destined for each other, no matter how much it sounds like cosmic bullshit. I know we were._

_See you soon (hopefully),  
Brian_

 

::::::::

 

Today we kneel only to truth,   
Follow only beauty,   
And obey only love.  
\-- Kahlil Gibran

* * *

_Cowers slightly in corner_. Erm... thank you everyone for reading my first piece of B + J fiction. I really do appreciate all of your support. Feel free to chew me out for the ending, but I just hope it achieves the effect I hoped it would.


End file.
